


Green Ink

by j_ranked



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Couch Cuddles, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Study Date, VLD Rarepair Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_ranked/pseuds/j_ranked
Summary: “You could play the injured guy act,” she suggests, grasping her pen and extending it to where the sling is cradling his right arm. She taps the plaster of the casting. “You’re both stubborn enough that you’ll probably never decide otherwise.”He scrunches his face sourly at the reminder, eyes tracing the obnoxious blue doodles Lance had left on the off-white canvas as soon as Keith had let him close enough. Scribbles in other bright colors paint it in well wishes and cute little caricatures from the others.Green is the only missing color and he’s too embarrassed to ask.





	Green Ink

**Author's Note:**

> For ahniely @ twitter! Sorry for the delay! I hope you like it!

The coffee shop is a small hole-in-the-wall, hidden in a back alley in downtown.

Keith arrives with his bag cradled to his chest, shouldering his way through the door with his good side, happy to escape the light drizzle. The inside of the café is filled with dark woods and warm reds, the scent of coffee and pastries welcoming and pleasant. Tiny private tables run along the walls, soft jazz setting the ambience with the quiet sounds of brewing coffee.

Pidge is easy to spot, in the corner farthest from the door, short hair a windswept mess. She’s wearing a green sweater over a white shirt, jeans a faded blue, and beside her plethora of books, a cup of coffee and a half-eaten muffin sit on the table.

He heads over, flashing an apologetic smile as he sits across from her, putting his bag at his feet and running chilled fingers through damp bangs. “Sorry I’m late. There was a crash nearby that delayed the bus.”

“It’s fine. It gave me time to cram in some extra studying,” she says, closing her textbook with a self-satisfied pat. She shoves it over and pulls her coffee closer, cupping her hands around the porcelain. Steam curls into the air, still hot – it’s probably her second cup.

He reaches over and tries to break off a piece of muffin.

“Well then, you’re welcome,” Keith laughs lightly, “Though, I doubt you _need_ the extra studying.” Muffin crumbles and slips from his fingers and he clicks his tongue in vague irritation. The wood of the table is cool and smooth when he sinks into it with a deep sigh, arm folding beneath his head.

Pidge looks amused at his plight, smirk playing on her lips even as she grabs a piece of muffin and bumps it against his mouth in offering. “I know, but the subject we’re learning this week is interesting. Hunk and I came up with an idea to implement it in our science project, so we’ve both been doing research in our free time.”

The muffin is soft and sweet, blueberry on his tongue when he bites into it, careful to not catch Pidge’s fingertips. He hums in thanks and pulls up to rest his chin on his palm. “I was wondering what Hunk was spilling over earlier,” he comments around his chewing.

Pidge blows into her coffee then takes a long drink, taking the last bite of muffin when she’s drained a little more than half of the cup. “You and Allura make any progress?”

“No,” Keith scoffs with no derision, “We’re still arguing about what we should do.”

“You could play the injured guy act,” she suggests, grasping her pen and extending it to where the sling is cradling his right arm. She taps the plaster of the casting. “You’re both stubborn enough that you’ll probably never decide otherwise.”

He scrunches his face sourly at the reminder, eyes tracing the obnoxious blue doodles Lance had left on the off-white canvas as soon as Keith had let him close enough. Scribbles in other bright colors paint it in well wishes and cute little caricatures from the others.

Green is the only missing color and he’s too embarrassed to ask.

“I’d rather not,” Keith admits with the veneer of painstakingly pulling teeth.

Pidge knows him as well as he knows himself, so she doesn’t comment. Instead she leans down to pull out his books from his bag, porcelain scraping the table as she moves it out of the way. Keith reaches to help, but is thwarted when Pidge redirects his hand to her coffee cup.

“Nope, lemme do this. You finish the coffee,” she orders him, pressing his fingers around the cup with her own. “I know the only reason you didn’t get anything when you got here is because you were worried you’d drop your money all over the floor like you did yesterday.”

Cheeks warming at the memory of scrambling to catch his change in front of a bunch of strangers, Keith obeys and brings the mug to his mouth. The drink is lukewarm and bitter as hell when he drains the last of it, coating the backs of his teeth unpleasantly.

Pidge laughs at his expression when he forces himself to swallow.

“Jesus Christ, Pidge, a little warning would’ve been nice!” he splutters, placing the now-empty cup far from himself. His eyes water as he places his palm protectively over his lips.

“Don’t be a baby,” she snorts, ignoring his glare as she pulls out another pen for him, placing it and an opened notebook in front of him. She commandeers his textbook as she arranges her own notebook into place. “Anyways, let’s get started on physics. That’s what you’re having the most trouble with, right?”

Grumbling a bit, he nods and grasps the pen.

Pidge is quick and efficient, helping him in a straightforward way that his teachers can never seem to manage. She knows how he learns best – hands-on and to the point – and it’s easy to follow her as she walks him through the problems he struggled with on his own.

She’s surprisingly patient with him as he slowly writes out answers and formulas, handwriting shaky like a child’s. Ambidextrous as he is, writing with his left hand is something he’s never quite managed effortlessly.

She helps him for a while before they switch gears and begin working individually.

At some point, Pidge gets up and buys him a drink – a sweet tea that washes away the bitterness still lingering – and despite the fact she had used his money to get it, he feels oddly coddled. It reminds him of a couple months ago when he had gotten overprotective when she had sprained her ankle. Getting things for her and offering her piggyback rides had become the norm until she had been deemed completely healed by the doctor.

When they finally decide to head to the Holt household, Pidge insists on opening the doors and holding the umbrella, despite her shorter height. He feels selfish accepting the help, but Keith knows she can see his fatigue, body sluggish from pain meds.

 Pidge’s house is empty when they get there, save for Gunther, who chuffs happily and follows Keith as he trudges into the living room and collapses onto the couch with a tired huff.

It’s ridiculous how sleepy his medication makes him. It’s only been a couple days and he’s already over the constant drowsiness and the restlessness that makes him want to claw off his skin. He’s dreading the next six weeks or so.

Gunther hops onto the couch and crawls into his lap, settling into a ball of fur as Keith pats and rubs between his ears. The house is peaceful – the only sounds the muted rain from outside and the soft noises of Gunther’s breathing and Pidge moving around upstairs.

“Matt is still jealous of how much he likes you, you know,” Pidge tells him as she returns from putting her stuff away. She’s changed, too, swapping her street clothing for pajama pants and a loose shirt. In her arms, she carries a bundle of blankets and a small pile of DVDs.

“Gunther doesn’t like him because Matt has a heart of steel and never yields to his puppy dog eyes when he’s asking for food,” Keith laughs and said dog shuffles at the sudden shaking before finding another comfortable spot along Keith’s torso.

“Unlike you,” Pidge teases as she pops in one of the DVDs.

She waits until the movie has started before joining him on the couch, throwing the fluffy blankets over their shoulders and wrapping them into a cocoon. He pulls her closer, letting her burrow under his arm, gentle and warm as she lets her head lay against his shoulder. Gunther, having been dislodged by Pidge, settles on the top of their blanketed thighs once they’ve settled.

“We’ve seen this one before,” Keith notes as he recognizes the introductory scene moving across the screen. The television is bright in the dim lighting, volume low. The subtitles are on.

Keith lets himself nuzzle into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and admiring the silky drag on the skin of his cheeks as she nods. Her eyes reflect the movie’s colors as she glances at him. “This way, if you fall asleep, you won’t miss anything.”

Pidge must see something on his face because she lifts a hand to poke it and says, “It’s not a big deal, you loser.”

“I know, it’s just–” Keith can’t find the words to express how annoyed he is with himself, so he heaves in a breath to stop his words from spilling from his mouth in an unending cascade of the frustration that has built the past days.

A stinging flick against his collarbone has him blinking at his girlfriend, unsure if he should be offended.

Pidge rolls her eyes at him, grin amused as he brings his palm to his chest with furrowed brows. “You’ll be better before you know it,” she tells him, “but until then, you need to let your arm heal. And I know it goes against everything you stand for, but that means you need to _rest_.”

“Says the one who binges Netflix series until it’s nine the next morning,” Keith mumbles, but relaxes his body into the couch in begrudging agreement.

Keith finds himself drifting as he watches the protagonist struggle through the movie, eyelids drooping as he practically melts into the cushions. Pidge doesn’t seem to be bothered by the way he keeps resting more and more weight on her, invested in the movie and brushing her hands through Gunther’s fur.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep because he wakes to the DVD player’s idle screen and Pidge curled in his lap. She’s brushing her fingers over the colored writing on his cast, looking sleep soft. Her droopy eyes let him know she had fallen asleep, too.

He rolls his neck with a quiet groan, aching from the odd position he’d been laying in for far too long. The sound of rain has vanished and Gunther is now sleeping in the spot Pidge had been sitting in before.

He presses a kiss to her bangs as she traces the messy rendition of Winnie the Pooh Coran had drawn with an orange marker.

“You want to put another movie in ‘til your parents get back?” he asks silently. His voice seems too loud in the moment, raspy from sleep, as he leans his forehead against hers and traces her freckles with his eyes.

She doesn’t startle.

Flashing a smile, she murmurs with a hint of laughter, “You’re always sappy when you wake up.”

In retaliation, he peppers the rest of her face in quick pecks, warmth filling his chest and spreading through his bones as she shakes with silent giggles and doesn’t make any moves to stop him. She catches his face between her hands once she calms to smack their lips together once before she pulls away, extracting herself from his lap.

Quirking a brow in question, he watches as she disappears into her mother’s office and comes back with a stolen gel pen.

Pidge sits herself to his left, a knee pressed to his thighs as she leans and uncaps the pen. Biting her lip, she searches for a free space amidst the chaos their friends left in their wake and she lights up when she does, pressing the pen to the clean spot with intent.

Green ink spreads on white, twisting elegantly as she forms words and curves hearts.

She sits back when she’s finished, capping the pen. Keith reads the short message she’s left and his heart is jittery beneath his sternum at the sheer affection he feels.

Grin pulling at his lips, even as his cheeks flush, he repeats her words back at her teasingly, “You’re always sappy when you wake up.”

Pidge shoves at his good shoulder with a scoff as she crawls back into his lap, rearranging the blanket around them from where it had been displaced. He wonders if the hint of red on the tips of her ears is a trick of the light or if she’s just as embarrassed as he is.

It’s quiet, Keith resting his chin on the crown of her head as she rests against his chest.

Drowsiness still pulls at his limbs and eyes and he tilts his head to get a view of her message, right arm wrapping around a small waist. “Think I’ll be able to get some more sleep before your folks arrive?”

She hums, “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll wake you when they get here.” Thin fingers brush back his bangs and his eyes drift closed on their own accord, content. “You can stay for dinner.”

He gives a sound of acknowledgement as he drifts, murmuring a soft, “I love you, too, Katie,” as he greets sleep. The small noise of mortification she makes is amusing, especially since she’s written it on his cast in green ink to be seen by friends and strangers alike.

_Get well soon, nerd! I love you!_

**Author's Note:**

> I've never had to wear a cast for an injury, but I think the way people doodle and write on it is super cute? So much sap potential, I feel. 
> 
> As for how Keith broke his arm, I'll leave it up to your imagination.


End file.
